by Pam Webber
Ethan winked at Nettie. “Thanks, Grams. We love playmates.”
Nettie studied Ethan’s face-up cards: all hearts—a four, an eight, a jack, and an ace. His eyes hinted at a win. She had a ten, a jack, a queen, and a king showing. Peeking at her last card, she knew she had him. “I’ll call and raise you.” She tossed two twigs in the center of the table.
She’d already lost to him at croquet and monopoly, but, thanks to her father, Andy, and the neighborhood boys, she could win at seven-card stud.
Ethan tossed in two twigs, followed by two more. “Call. And I’ll raise you two.”
“Call. Show me what you’ve got.”
Ethan laid down a flush. “Sorry. Straights lose.”
Nettie turned over two kings and a jack. “What straight? Try a full house.”
“Damn! I thought you were bluffing.”
“Gotcha.” Nettie counted twigs and converted them to money. “You owe me four dollars and sixty cents, which will just about buy us all lunch.”
“Want to go again?” Ethan asked. “Double or nothing?”
“I’ll win again. You have a terrible poker face.”
“I never had a girl beat me at poker before.”
“How many times have you played poker with a girl?”
“Well, never.”
“That’s what I thought. Let’s go. Win and I are hungry.”
Nettie ignored the nosy looks from the locals as she led the way through Howell’s Five-and-Dime to the orange swivel stools at the lunch counter. Everything was news in Amherst. No doubt Andy would hear about the new boys in town before close of business at the hardware store. Maybe that would be a good thing.
Win and Cal stopped talking to each other just long enough to order lunch. Summer might not be too bad if she and Ethan hit it off as well.
“I’m surprised we haven’t met before now. Your grandmother lives so close.”
“She usually spends summers in California with us.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom and dad.”
Ethan cringed. “I didn’t realize you knew. Grams strikes again.”
“Win and I don’t blab.”
“It’s not that. I’m just tired of thinking about it and not knowing what’s going to happen.” Ethan’s cockiness faded. “My dad had an affair.”
“Oh.”
“At least Cal and I are away from the arguing.”
“Maybe things will get better over the summer.”
“Maybe.”
“Being here might help take your mind off it.”
“Definitely. Things started looking brighter when you and Win showed up this morning.” Ethan slid toward Nettie, his arm and leg touching hers.
She slid away. He followed.
“You want to move over?” Nettie asked. “You have a whole stool to yourself, you know.”
“You smell good.”
“So, you like the smell of Zest. Big deal.” She pushed against his shoulder. “Move over.”
“Okay, okay.”
She didn’t appreciate the pushiness, but his skin felt nice.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Used to.”
“What hap—”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I did. She didn’t want to be alone all summer, so she moved on to someone else.”
“Sounds like she’s a good one to lose.” Nettie thought of Andy and Anne.
“I didn’t think so at the time.”
The waitress set their drinks on the counter, smiled at Ethan, and winked at Nettie.
Ethan noticed. “Nettie, close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Huh-uh.”
“Come on, trust me. Close your eyes.”
“All right, but no funny stuff.” Nettie blinked a couple of times, then did as he’d asked.
Ethan wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her in, putting his lips on hers. Nettie hesitated, before turning her head. She missed kissing. Her stomach flip-flopped when she opened her eyes. Andy stood at the far end of the counter, watching.
Nettie jumped up, her thoughts scrambled. As quickly as Andy had come in, he turned and left. Nettie started after him, but Ethan grabbed her arm, oblivious to what had taken place over his shoulder.
“Let me go.”
“Let’s do that again.”
“No. Let me go.”
When Ethan didn’t move his hand, Nettie pushed him off the stool. He landed with a plop as Nettie headed for the door.
“Try that again, you twit, and I’ll tell your grandmother.”
Andy’s tires squealed out of the parking lot just as Nettie reached the sidewalk.
Nettie and Ethan didn’t speak until they reached the Upper Road. Win and Cal walked well ahead.
“You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t. Not anymore. But, boyfriend or not, you stepped way over the line back there. Who gave you permission to kiss me? I sure didn’t.”
“I—”
“And when someone tells you to let go, you damn sight better do it.”
“Right. Not my finest moment.”
“To make matters worse, you did it in front of everyone in the store. The whole town will be buzzing by dinnertime.”
“I surrender. I screwed up. I apologize.”
Nettie let her anger beat itself out, unsure about what bothered her more, Ethan kissing her or Andy seeing it. “Don’t do it again.”
“Deal. Friends?”
“Maybe.”
Nettie ran to catch up with Win and Cal, who were talking about going swimming.
“Good idea,” Nettie said. “We can go to the Daily’s pool if you all don’t mind swimming with their three Saint Bernards.”
Ethan stopped in the middle of the road. “What?”
“On really hot days, their horse gets in, too. You can water-ride all of them if you want.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s no worse than swimming in a river or a lake.”
“But—”
“Chicken?”
“No. Just surprised. You’re full of them. Surprises, I mean.”
Ethan’s shoulders relaxed, as if he were seeing the Upper Road for the first time. “You know, I didn’t want to come here this summer, but I’m glad I did.”
“Isn’t it too early to tell?”
“I don’t think so. It feels right.” His smile widened to a teasing grin. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but one of these days, I’m going to ask you to let me kiss you, and you’re going to say yes.”
“Dammit, Ethan.”
He threw up his hands. “Just sayin’.”
Chapter 5
Camouflaged by thick brush, Nettie strained to see movement along the distant tree line. They’d arrived at the popular grazing spot before daybreak, hoping to spot a feeder. She and Win needed deer tendons to make the webs for their dreamcatchers, and the only way to get them was to kill a deer. She’d eaten venison many times but had never been on the killing side of getting it. Anticipatory guilt squeezed her insides.
The sapphire glaze blanketing the ridge faded as peachy light crested and flowed down the mountains, covering the swells faster than it filled the dips. The wave of light gave a roan glow to a big buck grazing his way into the clearing. The numerous points on his rack spoke to lineage, and his long neck, thick chest, and broad rump indicated a plentiful food supply. With no wind to give them away, Nibi dropped him with a single shot behind his shoulder. One moment, the handsome animal moved gracefully in his world; the next, he lay motionless in theirs.
Shooting the buck was the only thing Nibi had not wanted Win and Nettie to do by themselves. “Learning to kill humanely takes more than a summer,” she’d said.
Nettie hung back as they approached the dead animal, the gunshot still ringing in her ears. His lifeless eyes were wide open, and frothy blood stained his furr
y chest. She’d never watched life leave before.
Nibi’s arm closed around Nettie’s waist, moving her gently toward the buck. “There are different kinds of killing. God put animals on the earth to feed and support us. Killing them is wrong only if it does neither. In return, we help keep the herds thinned so they don’t starve in winter. Everything has purpose. Everything takes. Everything gives back.”
“It doesn’t seem right.”
“Nature doesn’t seek right. It seeks balance.”
Nibi knelt by the buck to stroke its fur. “Proud brother, I weep but do not hunger.” Opening a pouch of tobacco, she sprinkled the small flakes around the animal, then looked skyward. “Father God, please return his spirit to us in the spring, when all creatures are born again.” She handed Nettie and Win skinning knives with whetstone edges so sharp they were barely visible. “If you are going to take this animal’s gifts, it is important to respect the process of harvesting them. Do what I say, and be careful. These knives can slice you to the bone, and you’d never feel it.”
Nettie retched repeatedly as they gutted the buck, finally losing her breakfast as they spread his smelly entrails around for scavengers. She sank to her knees in the scratchy field, her stomach pressed against her spine.
Nibi pulled several small leaves from an apron pocket and handed them to Nettie. “Win, what kind of plant is this?”
“Peppermint.”
“How should Nettie use it?”
“Crush the leaves and sniff them.”
Nettie squeezed the small ball of leaves and rubbed them against each other. As she inhaled the tart smell, the nausea subsided.
Nibi gave her a hand up. “Stay focused on the work. It will help.”
Nettie and Win crisscrossed the buck’s legs and tied them to the hickory pole they’d brought. Hoisting it to their shoulders, they hiked down the mountain, the buck swaying in tandem with their steps.
“He’s heavy. Nibi, how do you get them down the mountain when you’re by yourself?”
“I make a litter of evergreen branches and drag them. The foliage protects the fur and is smooth enough to slide. If an animal is too heavy to drag, I dress it out where it falls, take the meat home, then come back for the rest.”
Reaching the barn, Nettie and Win eased the pole down, then dropped into the grass.
“Up, girls. We’re just getting started.”
Nettie started to moan but stopped. Nibi did this kind of work day in and day out and never complained.
Hanging the buck’s hind legs from a tree limb, Nibi explained how to skin the hide off the muscles in one piece. “Split the skin on the legs and peel upward. Then split the belly and peel toward the back. Finish by peeling it all toward the neck.”
Nettie concentrated on keeping a tight grip on the slimy pelt, ignoring the nauseating smell and the sucking sound as the hide separated from the burgundy flesh.
Nibi handed Win and Nettie pieces of flint with sharp edges. “Take the hide to the barn and scrape the lining with these until it’s smooth. Work from the edges in. Go slow. A damaged pelt serves no one.”
Nettie and Win pulled open the double doors of the old barn and latched them to the outside wall. When their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they brushed dirt, feathers, and mouse fur off the old farm table. Nibi stood in the doorway, watching as they stretched the pelt across the table and began scraping off the filmy membrane.
When they’d finished, Nibi inspected the hide, running her hands over every inch.
“Smooth. No nicks or cuts. Good. I’ll make you two some moccasins after it’s tanned. There’s a bag of curing salt by the door. Rub it into the pelt.”
Nettie picked up a handful of the coarse grains. “Should we use gloves?”
“No. The salt will toughen your hands.”
“Why do we need tough hands?”
“For the work yet to come.”
When salt covered the hide, Nettie and Win pumped water over their red and stinging fingers.
“Come on, girls. We need to start the deboning. Trim off the fat and put it in this bucket. The oil will soothe your hands. Tomorrow, I’ll mix it with lavender and make you some soap.”
Nibi pulled a washtub close to the skinned deer. “Once the fat is off, cut the meat in long strips. Start with the legs, move to the back and neck, then finish with the ribs. Be careful not to cut the tendons. We want them long.”
Nettie forced the image of the beautiful buck to the back of her mind and focused on moving the knife through the thick meat. Her queasiness didn’t leave, but it didn’t worsen. Halfway through, her knife found the bullet that had killed him. She cleaned it and stuck it in her pocket.
“When you’re finished, take the venison to the barn and rub it with salt, like you did the hide. Then hang it in the cellar.”
By the time they had carved and salted the last bit of usable meat, Nettie’s fingers were raw, but there wasn’t a drop of blood. Carrying the tub to Nibi’s root cellar, she and Win eased down the steps into pitch blackness and set the tub on the dirt floor. Nettie rubbed her arms against the cold as Win ran her hands along the wall to find the hook holding the kerosene lamp. The scratch of a match and flare of the wick against filmy glass threw shadowy light around the earthen room. Shelves holding colorful canning jars lined the walls; partially filled baskets of roots, dried corn, berries, and nuts filled the center.
“Her supplies look a little low,” Nettie said.
“When her garden comes in, this room will be stuffed.”
Turning toward the shelf behind her, Nettie jumped backward as slanted red eyes met her gaze.
“Damnation!”
It took a moment for her to realize the satanic eyes were attached to a big white snake coiled in a large canning jar.
“I’ve never seen a snake with red eyes.”
Win moved the lamp closer. “It’s an albino.”
“Wouldn’t Nibi cut the head off and skin it before she canned it?”
“If she were planning to eat it, she would. She must have another reason for keeping it.”
Nettie shivered and stepped back. Win raised the lamp toward the ceiling, where dozens of antler hooks hung empty. Suspended at the far end were a couple of large slabs of meat. “Looks like a turkey and what’s left of her last deer.”
Standing on crates, Nettie and Win hung the salted venison, then carried the tub up the steps. Nibi came around the corner as they lowered the cellar door.
“What’s with the evil-eyed albino down there?” Nettie asked.
“It died shedding its skin.”
“Why keep it?”
“As a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“That you can’t always tell good from bad by the outside.”
Nettie rushed down the steps to answer the doorbell before her father but ended up two steps behind him. Still dressed in his state police uniform, he opened the door. Following her breakup with Andy, Nettie’s father had become increasingly interested in meeting the new boys in her life.
Ethan’s and Cal’s eyes widened as they traveled from her father’s face to his badge, then to his gun holster, and back. Their expressions confirmed they’d received her father’s unspoken message.
Stepping up, Nettie quickly introduced Ethan and Cal. They’d come to pick her up for the weekly neighborhood softball game she and Win had invited them to.
Ethan took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.” Cal followed suit.
Her father nodded as he shook their hands. “Boys.”
Ethan pointed to the shiny, decked-out police cruiser sitting in the driveway. “Sir, is that the new Plymouth Fury?”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s a sharp-looking car. I like the rounded fenders better than the angled ones in the older models.”
“Me too.” Her father relaxed a little. “Your dad used to drive an old Fury.”
“You know our father?” Cal asked.
“We used to pal around together in high school. I haven’t seen him since he moved out West.”
The easy-going conversation took Nettie by surprise, but she interrupted it before the divorce could come up. “Dad, we need to get going. We’ve got to pick Win up and get to the softball game.”
“You all have a good time.”
“Thanks. We’re going to the Courthouse Café afterward for dinner.”
“Boys, give my best to your father.”
“Yes, sir, we will.” Ethan looked back at the door as they went down the sidewalk. “That got my attention.”
“Don’t worry—he likes you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told us to have a good time. If he didn’t like you, he would have told me not to be late.”
“What? You two have a secret code?”
“Not really. It’s just what he does.”
“What happens if he changes his mind?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Ethan stopped walking.
“I’m kidding. He’s a nice guy.”
“I still wouldn’t want to mess with him,” Cal added.
Nettie chuckled. “Wise move.”
Ethan cocked his head at Nettie. “Does he like Andy?”
“A lot.”
Win hurried down her porch steps as Nettie and the others crossed the yard. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
Scottie Wilson’s house was one of the nicest in town, complete with tall white columns and a front yard big enough to hold a softball diamond, a reasonable-size outfield, and a couple of team benches. Thanks to the generosity of Scottie’s parents, the neighborhood youth had been allowed to play in the yard long enough for the base paths to become permanent and to help their socially awkward son develop into a decent catcher.
Heads snapped as Nettie and the others entered the yard, everyone sizing up Ethan and Cal. Nettie quickly searched the crowd, Andy wasn’t there, again. He hadn’t been to a game since they’d split up. She couldn’t decide whether she was glad or not. “Hey, everyone. This is Ethan and Cal. They’re visiting Mrs. Smith for the summer.” Nettie introduced the players using first names and positions.
As the team welcomed the newcomers, Scottie slid close to Nettie. “Good to see you’ve moved on. I ran into Anne Johnson yesterday. Seems Andy’s moved on too—or so she says. Looks like he’d rather spend time with her than play ball.”
